


Peace

by killerweasel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerweasel/pseuds/killerweasel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even the smallest things can bring peace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace

Title: Peace  
Fandom: _Sherlock_  
Characters: John Watson, Mycroft Holmes  
Word Count: 500  
Rating: G  
A/N: AU after _203 The Reichenbach Fall_

It had been three months since Sherlock’s suicide. John sat in silence in Mycroft’s club, waiting for Sherlock’s brother to see him. He’d been waiting almost three hours. John assumed this was due to the fact the last time he’d seen Mycroft, at Sherlock’s funeral, he had punched the man in the face and nearly broke his nose. He remembered screaming Sherlock’s death had been Mycroft’s fault. John might have done more than that, but Lestrade had pulled him from the room. He assumed Mycroft still had him under surveillance even if the two of them hadn’t had any contact, not even through texts, since then.

The door to Mycroft’s private room swung open. John got up slowly, nodding at a couple of the older gentlemen in the room as he passed. He closed the door behind him. His first thought on entering the room was Mycroft looked unwell. Judging by the bags under his eyes, he hadn’t been sleeping very well lately. He also looked thinner. Not Sherlock thin, but like he hadn’t had much of an appetite. Even his suit seemed to be muted.

Mycroft said nothing as John approached his desk. John reached into his pocket and took something out of it. He set the item on the top of Mycroft’s desk and then stepped back. Mycroft frowned at it before sucking in a breath. John watched all the color drain from Mycroft’s face. For a very brief moment, he thought Mycroft was going to pass out. Mycroft brought a trembling hand to his mouth and closed his eyes.

The trembling grew in intensity until his whole body was shaking. John came around the side of the desk until he was standing next to Mycroft. He reached his hand out, setting it on Mycroft’s shoulder. The noise from Mycroft’s mouth, something very close to being a sob, made John’s heart ache.

John stayed where he was, occasionally giving Mycroft’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, until the other man stopped shaking. He had started to move away when Mycroft grabbed his wrist. Mycroft whispered something so low John had to strain his ears to hear it. It was just two words- he’s alive. John nodded.

He knew for certain now Mycroft hadn’t been in on whatever Sherlock’s plan had been. John wondered if Sherlock had any idea what he had done to them when he’d faked his death. Maybe that was the point. The grief had to be real to outside observers. Since that was probably the case, they would continue the façade, pretending to be a grieving brother and friend until Sherlock could reveal himself again.

John gave the postcard one last look before he left the room. It was a very plain-looking thing. The front had a picture of the Reichenbach Falls. There was no message or even a signature on the other side, just a postmark from Switzerland. He knew it would be safer to leave it behind with Mycroft instead of bringing it with him.


End file.
